Archive for the ‘Wig Owners’ Category

Have A Baby By Me?

Wednesday, August 27th, 2014

baby by me

Fisty Scent – Baby By Me’ featuring Ne-Yo

This is one of my favorite songs right now. The beat is perfect for the nightclubs and whenever the song comes on the women rush to the dancefloor. Ne-Yo on the chorus is of course the murderous element. Despite the fact that this song is a surefire hit I had to dig a little deeper than most would to see how real Fisty Scent kept it on a lyrical level.

Rap is in its core essence lyrical braggadocio. The artist establishes their dominance by exclaiming feats that are unique to only them. In this song Fisty Scent not only decrees his sexual prowess but the idea that if he is allowed to impregnate the listener they will become a millionaire. From the outset I’m sure those rhymes are super attractive to the female fans of Fisty Scent, especially in this shrinking U.S. economy, but what are the real-life ramifications of winning this lyrical lottery?

Hands down, Fisty Scent is one of the shrewdest artists in the music business. He has created an empire for himself while still wearing his du-rag into business meetings. Even Ghey-Z had to ‘change clothes’ to increase his wealth. Fisty Scent has leveraged his thug persona to cross over to marketing that has no connection to street life. Vitamin Water? That was a coup that no other rapper or Hip-Hop impresario had considered. Everyone else was chasing liquor branding oppurtunites and silly clothing line endeavors.

So don’t think that Fisty Scent is going to issue this million dollars in lump sum format. I can imagine that Fisty will issue the money in 18 annual payments of $55,556, or to better amortize his investment $4,629.63 in monthly installments until the million is finally excised. That doesn’t exactly amount to anything fabulous for the mother of the Fisty Scent seed now does it? Especially after the taxes for these monies have been calculated and paid. That isn’t even considering all the costs associated with child rearing.

baby by me

Healthcare costs for both mother and child have been skyrocketing when compared to the Consumer Price Index measure. Healthcare will be the single greatest expenditure (aside from education) when you consider bringing up a thug’s baby. Surgery from bullet and stab wounds can be very costly. Also note that the contract becomes voided if the child dies prior to their 18th birthday (R.I.P. Derrion Albert).

After education and healthcare requirements we still have to consider childcare because the mother of this kid is still going to need to put in hours at the stripclub in order to supplement her income if she wants to clothe and feed the seed.

baby by me

So by having a baby with Fisty Scent what you are really agreeing to is a legal and moral debt obligation. Fisty Scent’s arrangement barely covers half the costs associated with raising his child. At this rate you might could do better for yourself having a child with me.

At least my union benefits cover dental costs.

baby by me

And We’re Back!!!

Thursday, August 14th, 2014


My poor lil’ weblog is in dire need of an upgrade which I’ll have to administer in the immediate present, but the NFL Pick ‘Em Pool is back again for the true believers.

Leave your e-mail address in the comments section so I can send you an invite.


Champagne Aspirations, Malt Liquor Reality…

Thursday, June 12th, 2014


I’m secretly dying a million deaths inside my mind right now. I desperately wanted the Air Jordan retro Championship pack and the release date is this weekend but all my BRed (you see it) is tied up in my wedding planning. Boo hoo. I can’t get down with the hype.

The Champagne and Cigar 6s looks to be one of the most legendary releases for the Jordan Brand in quite some time. Both pairs are premium leather with all kinds of details throughout the shoes. I’m most hyped for the gold aglets (lace tips) and the championship ring as a lacelock.




If there is a sneaker god up in the sky I hope he watches my YouTubes and fux with the kid hardbody


Monday, June 2nd, 2014


Editor’s note: I pulled this drop out for blogs like Nah’Right and Mr.Kamoji. When the book comes out these dudes will be buying the hardbody hardcover.

The internets is truly a web that connects the entire world. I have made re-connections with friends from as far back as twenty years ago. None of them have touched my heart as deep as my brother ScatterBlast. I haven’t seen Scatt since 1992. It was friendly and warm, but it was only in passing. ScatterBlast and I were moving in two different directions, figuratively and literally. It went something like this…


I had just locked up at the architect’s office. The old Jew and his family trusted me enough to give me a set of keys and the security code to the office. I was finally staying out of trouble and going to college ever since ThunderCracker had died. The old Jew wasn’t more than just generous, but he was also a rebbe in the classic sense. He was a teacher in word and deed. The more college classes that I passed the more money the old Jew would add to my paycheck. Fuck what ever you heard about Jews. I learned that I was a Jew as well from the old Jew. More than anything else I learned to value education and the selflessness of teachers. More on this later this summer.

I was riding my track bike up Third Avenue that night and I heard my name shouted in a familiar gravely voice. I looked over on the sidewalk and there with a broom in his hand was my brother ScatterBlast. Scatt and I hadn’t spoken in about eight months ever since he came back home from prison upstate. ScatterBlast was working at a chain drugstore and cleaning the sidewalk in front of the store as I was riding by. Scatt looked solid gold like he was in the gym and running five miles a day. That was my dude right there.


Scatt was from the original Cybertron squad. Graphic Communications H.S. b/k/a ‘Printing’ is where we used to form up in the afternoon and decide what our mission for the day would be. It might be MACY’s, Bloomies or a shearling store in the Village. It could be another high school to settle an old score or start a new scorecard. Scatt was a bonafide rider. If he was part of your mission crew then you had a knockout artist running with you. Scatt was vicious and built like a pit bull. You weren’t going to be left standing after you came into acquaintance with the business end of a ScatterBlast fist. He reminded me of the raw fury of MIKE TYSON. I guess it was like that for most people born and bred in the toughest sections of Brooklyn.


ScatterBlast lived in the Eleanor Roosevelt public housing complex in the heart of the do or die. These buildings were erected in the early sixties with Federal housing authority money. They looked nice from the outside, but the inside construction was where the contractors did the Halliburton flim-flam with government money. Interior partitions were thin and uninsulated so that even a regular discussion in an adjacent apartment became common knowledge to the neighbors. Plumbing fixtures routinely were in disrepair and vermin and rodents became tenants almost as soon as the building was occupied.

Like many center city kids in the 1980’s Scatt was raised by his grandmother, along with three older male cousins and one younger girl cousin. His grandmother’s tiny apartment acted as a transient hotel and way station for all of the family that were traveling in and out of different situations in their lives. In a crazy and unfortunate way, ScatterBlast was able focus himself better when he was incarcerated upstate. The trees and the grass changed the air around him. Now he could actually breathe.

This is why Scatt was so ruthless on the streets. He almost had to stay moving just to breathe, just to get some fresh air in his lungs. When he went home he would feel trapped again. As he experienced his older cousins’ difficulties with prison and drug abuse, Scatt would bring that frustration and sense of helplessness out to the streets with him.


We were on a mission coming from Art & Design High School when we got into a ‘what’ on the Lexington Ave downtown express. Bodies were being scattered, from schoolkids to commuters to whomever was unlucky enough to be in our way. As the express train rumbled into the Union Square station I tried to alert everyone that we would be encountering the police since Union Square had a precinct substation in its bowels. When the train doors opened mayhem ensued as police entered and passengers fled. I transformed into stealth mode, looking out for ThunderCracker and SoundWave, making sure they both had exited safely as they were my first priority. The police however had captured Villain and Scatt. As the train was held in the station I watched the police place the cuffs on Scatt and then drag him off the platform. We made eye contact and ScatterBlast never batted an eyelid. He was stoic and undefeated. That was the last time I saw ScatterBlast, until this fateful evening as I was riding up Third Avenue.

Scatt was still the same excitable dude who spoke with determination and the volume turned up to 10. He was telling me how New York City was no longer the place for him. He was going to leave the city for somewhere, anywhere else. The one thing I will say about Scatter is that he was the type of cat that could relocate himself because he had that courage inside of him and that belief that he could make it on his own. We exchanged phone numbers, but our lives never intersected again. Not until I received an e-mail several weeks ago…

“Yo Dallas,

If this is you holla back at me! This is Scatta-Blast from the Stuy……Went to Printing in the 80s before getting locked down…..One of my boys sent me the link from FEDS mag about the CONS and I saw your name as the link! Cy told me about the article……….

Hit me up……………

Hail MEG!”

I’m telling y’all that GOD is good because behind Scatt’s government name were three letters. P.H.D. In fifteen short years this man has reached the potential inside of him that we all had. I’m not even gonna front and act like I didn’t have a piece of dust in my eye when I called my brother up. Fifteen years is a long time, too long, not to speak to someone that you love and respect as a brother. Scatt told me the story of going to Baltimore with nothing to lose and graduating from Morgan State and then Maryland University and then continuing at U of M for a doctorate in criminology. All the while, he never lost focus of why he left New York City and he never stopped believing in himself. Now ScatterBlast is a guidance counselor for at-risk kids in and out of the prison system. He is married and raising his own family while he tries to save some of the kids from the beast that is the prison industrial complex and the demons within themselves.

ScatterBlast IS the transformation.

Hail Meg!

the fools


Wednesday, May 21st, 2014

I stayed up ’til 5am watching the encore presentation of the Oklahoma City Thunder visiting the Knicks at Madison Square Garden. The atmosphere in the Garden was electric. Tracy McGrady was making his Garden debut along with Eddie House. Kevin Durant was in town with the Thunder. I should have gone to the Garden and scalped a ticket for this tilt. It ended up being one of this season’s classic contests.

The Knicks battled well with the Thunder all game long. They even had a lead at several points throughout the game including the final seconds of regulation play. That is when Kevin Durant sent the Garden faithful back into their seats for an overtime period. The Thunder needed a three point play to tie the game and put an overtime period into the books. Durant hit the contested shot straight and true. When I tell you he is the best player in the league right now I am not bullshitting you. Kevin Durant is the new King. BERNARD KING.

Bernard King is my favorite Knick of all time alongside Patrick Ewing. There was not a shot in the Garden that Bernard wouldn’t take, AND make. He was a forward with quickness and body control and a killer instinct. Bernard King used to wear Larry Bird’s ass out [ll] on the regular. Bernard used to wear everyone in the league’s ass out [ll] for that matter. Standing at 6-9 you could not guard him with a taller player. I remember watching Ralph Sampson attempt to guard Bernard and dude was looking like a mannequin as ‘Nard moved around him like a slalom gate. If you were shorter than Bernard he would just shoot over the top of your head like it wasn’t no thing.

the king

The only thing that did stop Bernard was his body. He tore his ACL and missed playing with Ewing during his rookie campaign. If Bernard had been healthy the Knicks with him and Ewing would have made New York jump like Rod Strickland. When I watched Kevin Durant play last night it was like watching the second coming of Bernard King. Durant can get his shot off anywhere on the floor. He can put the ball down on the floor and penetrate to the rim[ll]. Mainly, he can finish plays with a score. I’m calling him the MVP this season. Fux a LeBron.

The advantage that Durant has over my Brooklyn hero King is that Durant plays better defense on the ball. Last night Durant was matched up at times against Tracy McGrady (who found the bottom of the net quite often as well), but mostly against Wilson Chandler who was terribly overmatched by the league’s most dynamic player. Just wait until Durant starts going on those 40point streaks. Bernard would have a week or two of those. Just torching whichever teams came to MSG. I’m rooting for Kevin Durant to have as much success and more for his career. Word to Walt Whitman Houses and the King brothers from Fort Greene.

the king